


Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside

by jojothecr



Series: SPN 9.23 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x23, Episode Related, Gen, do you believe in miracles?, written in 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>9.23 / Dean's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside

Dean opens his eyes, stares up. For a long moment. At the ceiling of the room he picked, furnished, called home. Was it really only a year ago? Or five? A century? It's far, so far away. The room, the whole building. The whole lie of a life. Gone. Still there, but not the same, unchanged, but different.

He blinks, looks around. The sunlight is sharper, simpler. Just a cone of light, almost white, no shades of yellow. Everything looks somewhat distorted, malformed, but correct, in focus. Clearer than he remembers seeing it before. No tones of gray, just black and white. Right and wrong. Wrong right. 

He swallows, tastes blood on his tongue, a familiar flavor, so sweet and real, so foreign. Senses blood on his hands, clothes, smells it, lucid and fierce, like back then, when he'd touched the other side. The dark side, forbidden. So tempting. The side of a vampire, a creature of night, so starved for blood. For life.

His body hurts, aches, pulses with agony of wounds, stabbed, of bruises and scratches. Then it stops, fades away. Eventually. So soon. Just a memory, of flesh, of feeling pain, culpability. A memory of _feeling_. 

There's nothing now. Nothing good, he knows. Just thirst. Revenge. And a burning lust for the primal. Flesh. Life. Lie. Pretense. And zero particles of guilt, reproach. Complete void where he remembers consuming hatred, self hatred and disgust, so many bad decisions, so many wrong turns. They're still there, like footprints on the moon that won't disappear, but they don't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. A brother; only a thought, empty and trivial, just a reflection from a receding lighthouse. 

Crowley's voice never sounded sweeter, or more alluring, like an invitation to a sin, to redemption.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Imagine Dragons


End file.
